“Lookit what we caught!” hollered Linus as he and the other baby boys scampered up from their latest expedition. The four young boy rats were dragging a fish by a length of fishing line still attached to the hook in its mouth. Behind them waddled Zander and Dexter. Dexter wore an army helmet and a machete strapped to his curly-furred back. Those zombie hamsters weren’t going to catch him unprepared.
And so are rat lovers. Most people take one look at us, with that beady-eyed, long-tailed critter coiled around our neck and are totally grossed out. That's pretty much what Robin Rushlau of Dresden, Maine thought. "I had friends who had rats–I wouldn't even look at them. I thought they were the creepiest pets ever." But all that changed when she let her daughter pet sit for one while the owners were on vacation. "I couldn't believe how wonderful he was. At the end of the two weeks I wouldn't let him go back."
Sitting round a table fashioned of a Q-Tip Box, the mother does enjoyed a late brunch, compliments of their offspring and indulgent owner. There were scrambled eggs, sliced fruit, and veggies with a little brown bread to round out the edges of the meal. As the hustle of snagging the best pieces of food died down, the does began to compare notes on Mother’s Day and how their individual sessions with their offspring had gone.
It is seriously difficult to tell one white rat from another. Some owners trim their fur a little in patterns to try and tell them apart; others use food coloring, but I’ve largely given up. The White Babies don’t want individuality; I think of them as having a hive mind controlled by the Head White Baby.
We planned our trip for months, starting with a huge map which Andrew pinned to the wall in the hallway which was the only place large enough for it. The next job was to stick pins in all the towns where my writer friends lived, but unfortunately I had to trim down my wish list. The insurance company was only going to give us 62 days and after that the cost would be too much for us. Reluctantly, I had to trim down my numbers of friends to visit, so Florida, Georgia and some areas south had to be scrapped. Likewise, Maine had to go as there was just not enough time to go there and fit Boston, Hudson and New York in as well.
The first time I met Cherokee–Kee for short–he was lumbering up and down on the top of the cages of his "mates," all of whom he would have torn limb from limb if he got the chance.
Old Man Rodent came to us as a rescue from another rescue that had become overwhelmed with animals and financial difficulties and had had to close its doors. He was described as “rat aggressive”, which meant that he could not be housed with any of our other male rats, but needed his own cage. Skinny, partially bald from a wicked case of mites, and so dirty that I couldn’t figure out what color to enter into our records, he joined the crew at Bec and Matt’s Rats around Halloween with twelve other ratties. His unfortunate name, was Ashtray.
The story centers around the kidnapping of a concert pianist who disappears before the rehearsal of an important concert. The author is an artist of words when it comes to showing the anguish Ally, the kidnapped woman, experiences. Set in Australia, the different word usage is an added plus as are the descriptions of the unfamiliar places.
“I love dis show,” sighs Cuddles, “I mean, look at dose boxes everywhere an the sandwich sitting right where I can reach it! I fink I even saw a bag of chips open on da floor!”
The other does nod and Psyche reaches forward to turn the volume up with the remote.
It is half-past two, and the rattery dozes in a repose most identifiable with graveyards and Florida without tourists. Not a creature is stirring, not even a rat replacing a mouse and doing his job much better for twice the pay in cashews.
